


Catbread Unwrapped

by der_tanzer



Series: Catbread [4]
Category: Riptide (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-20
Updated: 2010-05-20
Packaged: 2017-10-09 15:00:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/88656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/der_tanzer/pseuds/der_tanzer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick and Cody find out.  Trouble ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Catbread Unwrapped

**Author's Note:**

> Angry!Nick unleashed, with kissing and making up.  
> 

Murray got his work done, and followed Nick and Cody around as he always had, but he tended to disappear in the evenings. Often, he didn't come home until late, sneaking in under cover of darkness and not inviting questions. Distance was growing between him and his two best friends, who noticed, but no longer knew how to talk to him.

It might have gone on like that indefinitely, but two weeks after their return from Mexico was Mama Jo's birthday. The _Contessa_ girls were having a party for her at _Straightaway's_ and everyone was invited. Murray went with Nick and Cody, but he asked Quinlan to join them at their table and the tension sprang up at once.

Rumors had long been flying to the effect that Quinlan and Mama Jo were lovers, or once had been, and Nick and Cody assumed that was why he was invited. Why he was at their table remained a mystery. But Murray looked happy, laughing and making obscure jokes that had Quinlan smiling. When he offered the older man a roll and said it wasn't catbread, but it would do, Quinlan touched his hand accepting it and an ugly suspicion began to grow in Nick's mind. He turned to Cody and saw his fears reflected in the sea blue eyes. They reached in unison for their beers and Murray, smiling at Quinlan, didn't see any of it.

Mama Jo came over then and sat down between Murray and Cody, giving each of them her customary curt nod.

"Ted, what are you doing hanging around these boys?" she asked, taking his hand across the table. He smiled and kissed hers in a mock gallant gesture.

"Making sure they stay out of trouble," he said. "How are you, Mama Jo?"

"Not too bad. Just letting all these people congratulate me on getting old."

"You'll never get old, Jo. Not so long as you got those girls keeping you young."

"That cut both ways, Teddy?"

"Maybe," he said, releasing her hand.

"Better watch yourself," she said obscurely. "Boys, it's good to see you. You all have a good time." With that, she stood and made her way to another table, smiling at another group of friends.

"What was that about?" Nick asked no one in particular. Then he turned to Quinlan. "What kind of trouble does she think you're getting into, Lieutenant?"

"Nothing that's any of your business. I'm gonna get a drink." He nudged Murray's foot, subtle but deliberate, and got up. Murray watched him go over to the bar, then excused himself a moment later to go to the restroom. It wasn't planned, but it might as well have been. Quinlan finished his drink and headed in the direction of the restroom, unaware of Nick's eyes on him.

"I don't like this at all," he said, watching over Cody's shoulder.

"What do you see?"

"I see Quinlan following Murray into the can. I tell you, man, there's something fucked up here. He says there's no plot but I'm not buying it. They're undercover or spying on someone or something."

"I'm starting to think we'll be lucky if that's all it is," Cody said quietly.

"So let's get to the bottom of it right now."

"You want to confront them in a public bathroom?"

"You got a better idea?"

"No," Cody sighed. "Let's go."

They tried to look casual, heading to the john together, both of them apprehensive about what they were going to find. Neither wanted to confront Quinlan at all, let alone in public, and knowing Murray was most likely on his side made it even worse. But no matter what fears were on their minds, they couldn't equal what was actually waiting inside. Nick pushed the door open a crack and heard a familiar voice.

"We're going to get caught," Murray was saying, low and throaty.

"I'll say I was frisking you. Maybe put the cuffs on to make it look real."

_What the hell_? Cody mouthed and Nick shrugged. He threw the door open and they both stepped in.

Quinlan had Murray backed against the sink, one arm wrapped around his narrow waist, his other hand gripping the sink for leverage. Even more appalling was how Murray was holding onto him, one hand around his neck and the other clutching his ass, grinding against him in a way that left no doubt that he was seriously into it.

"Frisking. That's good," Murray laughed against his shoulder, and Nick could stand no more.

"What the _fuck _is going on here?" he shouted. Quinlan leapt back so abruptly that Murray nearly fell. Nick was between them in a heartbeat, shoving Quinlan against the wall, trying not to hear Murray's protests. But Quinlan came up fighting, and his first blow drove Nick backward and almost out the door. Before he could catch his balance, Quinlan hit him again and they spilled out into the dining room in a tangle of arms and legs.

Nick was giving it back as good as he got it, and managed to be on top when they hit the floor. Cody and Murray tried to pull him off and someone, they never quite determined who, hit Murray in the chest, knocking him down. He fell hard, smacking his head on the floor, and blacked out for just a split second. Cody pulled on Nick, who finally gave up the battle, and they both turned toward their friend. But Quinlan was really angry now. He leapt up and grabbed Nick by the collar, spinning him around and pulling his fist back for a punch that would have settled once and for all who was in charge here. Except Murray beat him to it and took the prize.

"Ted," he called out, his voice cracked and urgent. Everyone froze and the room went silent, sixty people waiting to see who would give in to whom.

"No more, Ted. They're my friends." Murray struggled up onto one elbow, pushed his glasses back into place, and held out a shaking hand. Quinlan let go of Nick and took it

"Yeah?" Nick said, suddenly near tears. "Because I'm not so sure about that. Come on, Cody. We're out of here."

Quinlan hauled Murray to his feet and the skinny man tried at once to go after them. But he was still seeing stars and would have fallen if Quinlan hadn't held him up.

"I—I need to talk to them," he said vaguely and the lieutenant gave him a shake that rattled his teeth anew.

"You need your head examined," he said, leading Murray out to the parking lot and depositing him in the front seat of his car. They could see the Jimmy pulling out and Murray wanted to follow, but Quinlan was firm.

"Those guys need some time to cool off, kid. And you need to think long and hard about what you're going to say when you see them. Here, look at me. How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Um, three?"

"Wrong answer."

"Sorry. Lieutenant, I'm sorry about all of this. I should have told them something earlier. You didn't deserve this."

"Doesn't matter. What do you want to do now?"

"Can—can we just talk? Maybe you can help me figure it out."

"I don't know what I can say that'll make any difference. How's your head?"

"Better than your eye."

Quinlan touched his left eye and felt the growing heat. It was going to shine up nicely.

"All right, we'll go to my place and get some ice." But before he started the car, he reached over and felt the back of Murray's head. A knot was rising and Murray winced away from his hand. Quinlan turned the key without comment and drove them home.

In his tiny, cat intensive apartment, he washed the blood off his face, wrapped two hand towels in ice and gave one to Murray for his head. They shared out some aspirin and collapsed on the sofa, two guys just back from a rough night on the town. Except it was mid-afternoon and it wasn't Murray's home. That made him wonder if he would be welcome back at the boat at all, and the thought made him want to cry. Before he could start, Quinlan held up two fingers and asked him how many.

"Three? No, two. Two, right?"

"Getting better. Look, I'm sorry, too, Bozinsky. I should have known better than to hump you in a public bathroom, but damn it…"

"Yeah, I'm irresistible."

"If you only knew." Quinlan slouched lower, pressing his ice pack to his face.

"I'm going to apologize to them," Murray said suddenly. "For sneaking around and lying and letting them find out this way. And I'm going to make Nick apologize to you. Will that be good enough?"

"Good enough for what?"

"To make things right. So you won't be mad at them anymore."

"Oh hell, kid, I'm not mad. Ryder just thinks he's protecting you, like he always does. But that means he might make you choose. What are you gonna say to that?"

"Whatever I have to say to talk him out of it. I won't choose, Lieutenant. I—I just have to convince them that you're not using me."

"You think they'll buy it?" he asked. Then, before Murray could answer, he added, "If you want, if it'll make things easier, I'll go talk to them myself."

"Maybe," Murray said, but his tone was doubtful. "The thing they're going to want to know is—well, if this—means anything. You know, whether you care about me, or if we're just—fooling around."

"What do think they want to hear?"

"I don't know. Fooling around might make Nick want to hit you again, but caring makes you a part of our lives and I don't know—I just don't know."

"What about you, Bozinsky? What do you want to hear?"

Murray turned to him with a sweet smile and said, "I don't need to hear anything."

***

Back on the _Riptide_, the conversation was a lot less civilized. Nick was all for packing up Murray's stuff right then, or just pitching it into the harbor, and Cody was trying to calm him down, while inside he was fighting the same urge.

"He lied to us, man. I don't know how you can just overlook that," Nick shouted, sweeping a stack of Murray's books off the salon table.

"No, he didn't," Cody said, only a little bit calmer. "We knew who he was with, he was very upfront about that."

"But he said they were _friends_. They were supposed to be watching TV, not—not—"

"Making out in front of the TV? Like we do every day? Nick, you knew it was going to happen. You knew he was lonely, that he needed somebody, and at least it's—"

"Cody, it's _Quinlan_. The guy who writes fire code violations on us for fun."

"Come on, he hasn't done that in a year. And if Murray likes him, I don't see where there's anything we can do about it except try to be supportive."

"And how the hell do you suggest we do that? Have him over for dinner? Double date?"

"I think that's what we were doing this afternoon, until you went and hit him," Cody said reasonably.

"Be serious. If I hadn't hit him, you would have."

"All right, maybe. But I'd have been wrong. Now let's just sit down and talk about this." He wanted to remind Nick that _he'd _been the one saying everything would be okay weeks ago, when all this started. But Nick never took _I told you sos_ well, and he was already in the mood to hit people, so Cody didn't bring it up.

"There's nothing to talk about, Cody. I don't want that guy around."

"Which guy, Murray or Quinlan? Because if you keep on like this, it's going to amount to the same thing."

"You really think he'd choose Quinlan over us? Man, if he would, then fuck him. After everything we've done for him, taking him in, making him part of the business—"

"Getting him kidnapped, beat up, shot at," Cody added. "Not to mention letting him pay for everything. He ought to be grateful for that."

"Shut up."

"No, Nick, I'm serious. Murray's our friend and he's always been supportive of us—of everything we do. You know how hard it's been for him, living here and watching us be in love. If he can have some of that for himself, how can you deny him the chance?"

"I'm going to have to repeat myself here, man. _Be serious_. Quinlan doesn't _love_ him. He's getting something out of it. Sex or money or free software or something, but it's not love. And if you think it's anything like what we have, then I'm questioning your whole take on our relationship." He turned on his heel and headed for the forward stairs. Cody grabbed his arm and pulled him back, unwilling to let him trash Murray's room without at least discussing it a little more.

"Okay, so it's not exactly the same. It can't be, because Murray's not like either of us. But we don't really know _what_ it's like yet. All we know is that Murray likes being with him and they have some real passion between them. You can't deny that he was into the bathroom groping. Quinlan didn't exactly have a gun to his head."

"That just makes me wonder how well we ever knew Murray."

"So that's it? He falls for someone you don't like and you just write him off? Come on, Nick, it's _Murray_. He's our best friend. We can't make him choose between us and the guy he's sleeping with. We have to give this thing a chance."

"You're really not kidding," Nick said in amazement. "You really want to have Quinlan over here and try to be friends with him?"

"For Murray's sake, yes."

"And what if I don't? Will you abandon me, too?"

"What? No, Nick, I'd never leave you. But if you drive Murray away, if you end our partnership over this, I'm going to resent the hell out of you for a long time. I think it's only fair to say that right now."

"He's going to leave us," Nick whispered, sinking into the nearest chair. "Quinlan's going to turn him against us and that'll be it."

"No, he's not. If Murray turns on us, it'll be us that caused it, acting the way we did today. And if he leaves, well, he's a grown man. You couldn't expect him to stay here forever. I always thought he'd get married someday, have kids, something like that. If he wants to be with Quinlan, we have to let him go. But that doesn't mean pushing him out the door."

"I just don't understand," Nick said, and his tone was hopeless. "How could Murray go for a guy like Ted Quinlan? How could he choose him over us?"

"He didn't. And he _won't_, unless we make him. I'm really hoping it doesn't come to that."

"What if it's too late? I beat up his boyfriend in public. Hell, I guess I outed them both. What if he never speaks to us again?"

Cody crouched down and rested his elbows on Nick's thigh, catching Nick's chin in one hand and making him look him in the eye.

"It's not that bad," he said firmly. "I don't think anyone else saw into the restroom. And us brawling with Quinlan isn't exactly new. They got out of there as quick as we did, so I doubt they said anything to anyone."

"But they left together. It was pretty plain that Murray was siding with him, and _that's_ new."

"Nick, right now, that's the least of our worries. Let's make sure they're okay, and then we can start the damage control."

"What do you mean, make sure_ they're_ okay?"

"Well, if you broke the lieutenant's nose again, this could get a lot harder. And in all the commotion, somebody hit Murray. Quinlan looked pretty pissed about that."

"Shit on it," Nick muttered. "I hope that wasn't me."

"It could have been me, I had my elbows in there, too. But let's give it a bit, okay? Let everybody calm down and get their heads together."

"I don't know if I can do that. My head's pretty messed up right now."

"Sure you can, Nick. I'll help." He rose smoothly, grabbed Nick's hand and pulled him out of the chair.

"What are we doing?"

"We're going downstairs. I know just how to relax you."

"Cody, is this really the time?"

"When's it ever not been the time?" Cody led him down to their cabin, feeling Nick's resistance lessen with every step. They were undressing each other before they were through the door, and when Cody tried to examine Nick's injuries, Nick told him to forget it. He sank down on the bed, pulling Cody with him in a rough embrace that hurt his ribs in a totally unimportant way. Cody moved to the floor and knelt there, kissing his scrapes softly, licking at the new bruises just beginning to surface. He worked his way down the tanned body, nibbling and stroking, tickling his firm thighs and making Nick laugh.

The laughter changed to moans of pleasure when he took Nick's cock in his mouth. Nick finally stopped worrying about Murray and grabbed fistfuls of Cody's hair, thrusting hard. Even after all these years, it was the most wonderful thing in the world. Well, one of them, at least.

Cody took his time, sucking and lapping, drinking in the salty-bitter flavor and deep, rich scent. It was one of the most wonderful things for him, too. He cupped Nick's sac gently, squeezing and rolling, feeling the heat radiating off the skin. Nick kept lifting his hips, forcing himself deeper, and Cody slid a hand beneath him, fingering his ass gently. It was too much and Nick came hard, thrusting against the back of Cody's throat, barely giving him a chance to breathe. Cody sucked him dry, licked him clean, and sat back on his heels with a self-satisfied grin.

"Feel better?" he asked.

Nick lay limp across the bed, panting and starting to laugh again.

"A little bit. What about you?"

"What about me?"

Nick sat up and grabbed him again, pulling him up onto the bed.

"We ought to even the score, don't you think?"

***

Murray and Quinlan sat side by side on the old sofa until the ice was melted and their heads ached with cold. Quinlan made the first move to take the towels back to the kitchen, but when he started to rise, the pain in his ribs held him back. Murray put the towels on the old footlocker, already stained with the rings of a thousand coffee cups and shot glasses, and turned to his friend. He tried to lift Quinlan's shirt, wanting to see if there were marks, and the other man tried to push him away. But he could be determined for a good cause. He slung his leg across Quinlan's thighs and perched on his knees, daring his friend to push him off. When the challenge wasn't met, he lifted the polo shirt and the lieutenant, knowing when he was beaten, took it off.

"You're a pest, you know that, Bozinsky? I think you just like sitting in my lap."

"Maybe. But I think you like it, too." Then the teasing went out of his voice and his expression turned serious. "He got you pretty good, Lieutenant."

"Not half as good as I got him," Quinlan said, rather proudly.

"I'd like to be happy for you, but it's bad news for me either way."

"Yeah, you're right in the middle, aren't you? Sorry about that, kid."

"It's nowhere I haven't been before," he sighed, thinking about all the arguments Nick and Cody had had over the years. Touching the darkening bruises, he asked, "Does that hurt?"

"Hell yes, it hurts. But not too bad. I've just been sitting here too long. Gotten stiff."

"Have you?" he asked, taking off his glasses, his tone frankly speculative.

"Kid, you've got a dirty mind."

But Murray was already working at his belt and Quinlan didn't try to stop him. Murray was gentle, more so even than the first time, kissing the black eye and split lip tenderly as he drew forth Quinlan's stiffening cock. After a moment's easy stroking, Quinlan did push him off, and Murray undressed before resuming his position. Propping one arm on the back of the sofa, he leaned lightly into the broad chest and squeezed their cocks together with his other hand. Quinlan didn't seem so stiff now, his arms around Murray's waist, holding on hard and letting his nails dig in just a little.

"Does that hurt?" Murray whispered, concerned about putting too much pressure on the fresh bruises.

"Fuck, no," Quinlan gasped, arching up to bite his neck. Murray bent down for him, wanting to feel as much of those teeth as he could. He nipped sharply, soothed the spot with his tongue, and then did it again, over and over until Murray was crazed with it. Instinctively his hand tightened, pressing their hard flesh against his belly, and Quinlan jerked him closer, no longer feeling any pain.

Murray turned his head, giving up the throat gnawing at last, and slipped his tongue into Quinlan's open mouth. Their tongues met and Murray gasped, his body tensing on the edge of orgasm. The other man felt it like a jolt of electricity and came with him, softly crying his name. Murray dropped his head to Quinlan's shoulder and held onto him, trying to catch his breath.

"You okay, kid?"

"Yeah, I—of course. Did I hurt you?" He tried to pull away, thinking of those spreading bruises, but Quinlan's grip didn't loosen.

"You kidding? It'd take a lot more than your scrawny little body to put a hurt on me." He sounded stern but there was something gentle and teasing underneath. His appreciation for that scrawny body was well established by now. So Murray kept his head down, breathing the spicy mix of Skin Bracer and sex, feeling Quinlan's skin damp against his cheek.

"Sometimes I…" He hadn't meant to speak and trailed off, not wanting to finish. It was far too early to tell this man that he loved him, no matter how strongly he felt it.

"You what, Bozinsky?"

"Nothing. I'll get a towel." He kissed his friend softly and rose, his puzzling determination enough to make Quinlan let go at last. When he came back, the lieutenant, head clear and lust assuaged, told Murray he needed to call home.

"You think so?" he asked, pulling on his clothes.

"Unless you want to spend the night here."

Murray thought that over for a moment.

"Could I?"

"If you need to. But I know you, kiddo. You can't let your best friends go without breaking your own heart. And the longer you wait, the harder it's gonna get."

"Yeah," he said slowly. "I guess I'd hoped one of them would call first. But they don't really do that. Mind if I get a beer, Lieutenant?"

"You can have whatever you want," Quinlan grinned, slouching down and putting his feet up. Murray went into the kitchen and got a can from the fridge. He cracked it, took a drink and hopped up on the counter by the phone. His fingers trembled as he spun the old fashioned dial, and twice he screwed it up and had to start over. His heart was in his throat while he listened to it ring, and stopped altogether when someone picked up. But it was Cody, and that allowed him to choke out a few words.

"Hi, Cody, it's—it's me."

"Murray, thank God," he said, and Murray's throat closed up again. "Boz, are you there?"

"Yeah. Yeah, Cody, I'm here. Can—can we talk?"

"Sure, buddy. There's nothing I'd rather do."

"What about Nick? Will he talk to me?"

"Murray, of course he will. He's really sorry about what happened. It just took him by surprise, you know? Hell, it took me by surprise, but Nick's always been more—protective. Just come home, okay?"

"I—I want to. But you have to be willing to listen and—and try to understand."

"We will. Hey, we were talking about grilling some steaks for supper. Maybe Quinlan would like to join us and we could try to—you know—get to know each other."

"I'll ask him." Murray glanced back into the living room and saw Quinlan focusing determinedly on the TV, trying not to listen. He turned away from the door and his voice dropped to a whisper. "Cody, I've always felt like you were on my side, no matter what—even when I was wrong—and I need to know that you are now, too."

"Boz, I'm always going to be on your side. That doesn't mean I won't say something if I see you heading into rough water, but if you want something, I want you to have it. That's always going to be true, whether Nick agrees or not."

"Really? Because the last thing I want to do is get you two fighting with each other."

"We're not. Nick's just scared that you'll get hurt, that's all."

"And you aren't?"

"I don't want you to," Cody said seriously. "But you have to live your own life, and if you _do_ get hurt, I want to still be able to be there for you."

"That's good. I really appreciate it," Murray whispered, "because I think—I think I love him."

He heard Cody gasp and winced a little, afraid of his friend's anger. But what Cody said was, "Does he feel the same?"

"I don't know. I'm not going to ask. But I need you all to be friends."

"Sure, Murray. Bring him over and we'll do our best, okay?"

"Okay. Thanks, Cody. And tell Nick—tell him I'm sorry. I know he thinks I lied and—and maybe I did, but I'm sorry."

"You can tell him yourself, Boz. He's not mad anymore, I promise."

"Thanks. I—I guess we'll see you in—what—an hour?"

"Sure, that's good." Cody said goodbye and Murray hung up before he could get any more emotional. Murray stayed in his place on the counter until he'd finished his beer, and then went back to Quinlan, who hadn't moved from the couch.

"You guys all kiss and make up?" he asked without his usual rancor.

"Not yet. They—uh—invited us over for steaks."

"_Us_?"

"Cody says Nick's done being mad and they want to talk. I was kind of hoping you did, too. It might make things easier. You know, open and honest communication between adults, to—um facilitate—" He cut himself off abruptly and asked, "Am I kidding myself?"

"No, Murray. I'll go and eat steak with your friends if it'll make you happy. Better than having them here."

Murray glanced around at the cats, which he was almost used to, and nodded.

"Maybe we could pick up some of that imported beer that Nick likes."

"Whatever you say, Bozinsky. I'm gonna get a shower." Quinlan rose stiffly, holding his ribs with one hand, and made his way to the bathroom. Murray sat down in his place and took over the task of watching TV. _Bullitt_ was on and he couldn't help marveling that there always seemed to be some wonderfully testosterone rich film airing just for Quinlan. That set his mind to working in a lot of different channels, and when the other man came back, freshly shaved and dressed in clean clothes, he had to ask.

"You're so—so masculine, Lieutenant. You were in combat, you've been married—I bet you rebuild transmissions in your spare time."

"When I get the chance. What's your point?" he asked, shoving Murray over and reclaiming his seat.

"How did you get started sleeping with men? And why men like me? If you were interested in Steve McQueen that would be one thing, but a—a skinny geek in taped glasses—I don't understand."

"Bozinsky, you might be a genius, but even I could write a book about all the things you don't understand."

"That's probably true. Everyone could write a book, I think. It's really not that hard, it's just—well, see what I mean? Geek-o-rama."

"I started jerking around with guys during the war. It wasn't like cheating on my wife and I never told her. It never mattered. Since she's been gone, it mattered even less. There's always someone who wants a half hour with no commitment, and it's more likely to be a man than a woman. At least if you aren't paying for it, and I don't. But you—well, you're special, kid."

"Really?" he asked, absurdly pleased.

"Like you don't know. You're a good guy. Not just okay, but _good_. I never had much of that in my life. And that Titan missile in your shorts is nice, too."

"You mean size does matter?" Murray was blushing and Quinlan suddenly wished they had time to go to bed. Maybe sometime the kid _would_ spend the night.

"You're a good guy," he said again. "Isn't that enough?"

"I guess if it's enough for you, I can't complain. I just assumed a big tough cop would want a big tough—whatever." Again, he couldn't bring himself to presume a designation.

Quinlan laid a hand on his thigh and squeezed gently, feeling hard bone and thin ropes of muscle. Touching those skinny legs always brought up a fiercely protective desire, as if Murray might be claimed and broken by someone else the moment he was out of sight. He wondered if Ryder felt the same way. If maybe that was why the fight had started. But Ryder had never claimed the little guy. He knew that because Murray had told him.

"I get bored spending too much time with guys like me," he said. "You're a hyperactive pain in the ass, but damn it, it's interesting."

"You make me sound like Anne Shirley chattering on about trees and ponds."

"See, I never know what the fuck you're gonna say next. And, no, that wasn't an invitation to explain." But he was still smiling and he squeezed Murray's leg again to take the sting out. "This is over in a minute, and then we'd better get going if you want to make a stop."

"Sure. Can I say, though, that I'm a little surprised you don't mind being seen with me?"

"Why?" Quinlan asked, and that time his tone demanded an explanation.

"Well, you know, the whole geek thing."

"Don't be stupid. You're a good looking kid, in a skinny kinda way. So long as you don't wear those plaid pants, that is. Anyway, there's no harm in people thinking I have smart friends."

Murray almost asked what was wrong with his plaid pants, and then decided to just take the compliment. He thought it might be good for people to think he had cop friends, too.

***

The barbecue was smoking on the fantail when they got there, Cody standing by watching the coals. Murray hoped Nick was in the galley making his special sauce or something, rather than hiding from them, and he boarded the boat with a tentative smile. Cody saw the fear in his face and went forward to hug him before it got worse.

"Are you okay, Boz? You hit your head pretty hard there this afternoon."

"Yeah, no, I'm fine. Just hurts a little. How's Nick?"

"He's okay. He's in marinating the steaks."

"He's not mad?"

"No, he's fine. Here, come sit down. Lieutenant, welcome aboard."

"I think I better go talk to Nick. And—uh—maybe clean up a little. Will you guys be okay?"

"We won't knock each other overboard, if that's what you're worried about," Cody smiled and Quinlan laughed, trying to meet him halfway. He had two six packs of bottled ale and Cody took them with sincere thanks. They went back to the fantail and Murray went inside.

"Hey, Nick," he said quietly, from halfway down the stairs.

"Hey, Murray," came the reply, stiff and stilted and not at all like the Nick he knew. Murray froze, his heart filled with fear, and Nick turned to him, exposing a black eye and split lip that were almost identical to Quinlan's.

"Nick, I'm so sorry," he whispered, suddenly feeling weak and grabbing for a handhold on the wall. "I'm so—"

Before he'd finished speaking Nick was there, catching him and helping him down the stairs.

"I never meant for anyone to get hurt, Nick, I swear. I didn't want it to be like this."

"I know you didn't. Sit down, Murray. Can I get you anything? Do you want a drink?" His voice was full of relief now and Murray realized that Nick had been just as scared as he was.

"No. No, thank you. Are you all right? Your eye looks terrible."

"It's fine. How's Quinlan's?"

"The same." He sat down at the table and folded his hands together nervously while Nick turned back to the steaks. There was an awkward silence, which Murray felt obligated to break. "I really am sorry, Nick. I didn't tell you because I was afraid you'd—well, I was afraid you'd laugh, at first. Then, after a little time went by, it started feeling too late. But I should have. I should have found a way. It would have been better than whatever you thought when you saw us today."

"I thought he was setting you up," Nick said quietly.

"What?"

"You heard me. Since when is Quinlan into guys at all, let alone…"

"Let alone me? It's okay, I know. And I'm not going to sit here and psychoanalyze him with you. He's allowed to have his secrets."

"Fair enough. Just, are you sure? I mean, are you sure he's not smoothing the way for some job? Stroking your ego so you can run down another McBride or something?"

"Maybe you don't know it, but that's pretty insulting Nick. Saying that no one can like me for me, and not just for what I can do."

"No, Murray, not no one. Just maybe not Quinlan. Unless I'm totally off base here, in which case, I apologize. If you really like the guy, and you're sure he likes you, then I don't have a problem with it."

"Good," Murray said, half bitter. "I'm glad you don't have a problem with my love life."

Nick stopped what he was doing, washed his hands and turned to Murray again.

"Don't, Boz. I don't want to fight with you. You're my friend and I love you, okay? I guess I'm just a little hurt that you didn't trust us. I feel like if there wasn't a big secret here, some scam that he's pulling on you, then he wouldn't have wanted you to keep it from us."

"It wasn't him. I was the one who decided not to tell you. Quinlan said all along that he didn't care if you knew or not. All he cared about was you not using it against me."

"You call him Quinlan? What, you can sleep with the guy but you can't use his first name?" He turned back to the food to hide his smile.

"The more things change, the more they stay the same," Murray shrugged. "He doesn't use mine, either. Usually."

"Huh." Nick finished stacking the meat on a plate and washed his hands again. "So, what's it like? What do you guys talk about?"

"Stuff. Work and cars and what's on TV. He doesn't understand my computer work, but he listens to me talk about it. Usually. But mostly we just watch TV and have sex. It's nice, actually. Relaxing."

Nick tried not to picture Quinlan naked and failed. Well, the lieutenant did have every indication of a nice ass under those jeans. He was in good shape, for a man his age.

"Well, if you're happy, Murray, then I'm happy for you. Just promise me you aren't going to be moving out any time soon."

"I don't think I'm going to be leaving, Nick. I doubt he wants anything that serious."

"What about you? What do you want?"

"I like things the way they are. Only without the sneaking and lying. I want to come home."

"Murray, this will always be your home, for as long as you want," Nick said, so easily that no one would have known how close he came to evicting his friend not four hours ago.

"Thank you. So all that's left to ask is, what about Quinlan? Is he welcome to visit, or do I have to keep going to his place all the time?"

"I don't think he wants to hang out with us, but he's welcome to if he does. I won't start anything."

"Thank you. I—I think he could use some friends."

"Everybody needs friends," Nick said, feeling a terrible guilt that had almost nothing to do with Ted Quinlan. "Now, how about you grab that salad and we'll go join the party?"

Up on deck, Cody and Quinlan were sitting together talking quietly, seriously, over their beers. Both stopped the moment Nick appeared and Cody got up to take the plate.

"No thanks, pal," Nick said with a grin. "I want to be able to eat this."

"Everyone bitches about my cooking," Cody sighed. "Honestly, it's not that bad."

"Depends on how hungry you are," Murray told him. "Sometimes it's great."

"Sure, if we've been lost in the mountains for a month and run out of hiking companions to eat," Nick agreed, putting the meat on the grill. "Cody, hand me a beer, will you?"

"Gee, Nick, aren't you afraid I might burn it?"

"Yeah, a little. How do you like your steak, Ted?"

"Medium, if you can manage it. Rare, if you can't." He uncapped a bottle and handed it to Nick before Cody had a chance.

"Will do." Nick paused, took a drink, and forged ahead with a forced casualness that told everyone how hard the words were to say. "I—uh—I'm sorry about before. At _Straightaway's_. I shouldn't have hit you. It was a—a misunderstanding."

"I figured it must be. No harm done, right?" He offered his hand and Nick took it, the first time he'd ever done so without expecting a low blow. Quinlan shook with him and then settled into his seat, like any other guest who'd come to visit friends. Murray gave him a grateful smile and excused himself to go below. Cody waited a moment and then followed.

"You okay, Boz?" he asked, catching Murray in the salon.

"Yes, I'm fine. I just want a quick shower. You can entertain the lieutenant for a few minutes, right?" It should have been a flip question but his eyes were pleading.

"Sure. Sure, we were just having a nice chat about bass fishing. And you, of course."

"Oh, that's nice. He loves to fish."

"I guessed that. You go have your shower, and I'll get back out there before he and Nick start talking."

Murray turned to go and Cody squeezed his shoulder in that same friendly, familiar way he always had. That very familiarity made Murray turn around again and hug him, suddenly on the verge of tears.

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice choked and strained.

"Hey, Boz, it's okay. Quinlan—he really cares about you. We didn't know that."

"I didn't know how to tell you."

"I know. It's okay, buddy, really. It's okay."

Murray nodded, biting his lips, and slipped away without another word. He showered quickly, put on new jeans and his favorite blue t-shirt, and got back up on deck before the guys had finished their first round of beer. Quinlan opened a bottle for him, and he sat down, smiling his thanks.

"Did I miss anything good?"

"Just telling war stories, kid."

"Oh. Nothing I'd want to hear about, then."

"Probably not." He touched Murray's wrist gently, fingertips against his pulse, turning it as if to check his watch, but the brief gesture was all affection. Nick thought that if he'd seen something like that earlier, the tenderness in Quinlan's eyes and the pure joy in Murray's, he wouldn't have gotten so mad. It was light years away from the animal passion in the men's room, and infinitely more powerful.

"I never get to hear the war stories," Murray said, not really complaining. "I just _built_ the weapons. That doesn't mean I'm grown up enough to know how they were used."

"Kid, there's a lot you don't want to know," Quinlan said fondly. "Hey, didn't you say you were designing a—an engine of some kind?"

"An engine?" Nick asked. "What, are you building cars now?"

"No, it's a computer program. A system-wide search engine. See, it'll let me utilize databases, house records, you know, and then search and cross reference them. The one engine will be able to access all of my data so I can pull anything up from anywhere."

"I thought you already did that," Cody said.

"Well, sort of. But I have to remember where things are stored and go into each program separately. Once I get this program finished, I'll be able to search every program, every file, simultaneously. The new operating systems are starting to incorporate them, but since I built my own OS, I have to design this part, too."

"Sounds like a lot of work," Nick remarked.

"I guess. But I really enjoy it. The only problem is—well, never mind. I don't want to bore you. Hey, Cody, did you put the new clutch in the Jimmy yet?"

"We were going to work on it tomorrow," Cody said.

"You think clutches are more interesting than computers?" Quinlan asked. "Jeez, Bozinsky, how do you put up with these guys?"

"Big talk from the man who—how did you put it, Lieutenant? _Never understands what the blue fuck I'm talking about_?"

"Doesn't mean it's not interesting," he said with a shrug, and that was when Nick and Cody were finally convinced. It had to be love.


End file.
